


Firelight

by Bofursunboundbraids



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Post BotFA, Post-Coital Cuddling, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids
Summary: Thorin wakes one morning and finds himself in an unfamiliar condition. He's happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sansael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansael/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for Sansael. I hope you have a very happy and peaceful holiday. <3

Thorin couldn't remember the last time he'd wiggled his toes. And that was too bad, because it was such a delight! He sat on the edge of the bed, a smile stretched across his face, and watched his thick, stumpy toes wiggle about on the ends of his feet. This had come as such an unexpected pleasure that he wanted to laugh out loud, but dared not lest he wake the one who lay beside him, fast asleep. He gave his toes one last good wiggle and left his bed to greet the new day.

Dawn was the thinnest sliver of light on the eastern horizon. Thorin knew this as all dwarves know, when deep in their mines, whether the sun shines above their heads, or the moon. Dawn was the time to give thanks to Mahal for granting yet another day of life and Thorin was full of gratitude beyond measure. Standing tall and strong on his legs, he raised his arms above his head, stretching his battle-scarred limbs as the biting cold of Erebor wrapped itself around his body. Thorin welcomed the sting and made no move to cover his nakedness. There was no need, not there, surrounded by the stone he had been pulled from. The source of his strength. His place of creation.

_Home._

He felt an exhilarating sense of purpose flow fast and hot through his veins, quite unlike any he had ever felt before. This was a purpose born out of _joy_ , not desperation or fear or suffering such as he had become accustomed to during those long, dark years spent living the life of a refugee, exiled from his home by the soulless beast with an all-consuming lust for gold.

A lust for gold...

It was the thorn among the blooms. His shame. He refused to hide from it, however. He had faced the foulest, most base creatures, constructed of hate and filth, on this good earth and he had defeated them. Against the demon that could still be laying deep within himself, he would need to be ever vigilant, but he would conquer it nonetheless. It was crucial that he remember what he had done, while in thrall to the madness; the unnecessary dangers he had exposed his kin to as well as the threat he had posed to his truest, most dearest friend.

_Bilbo._

Thorin had believed himself to be far beyond the possibility of forgiveness but it had been granted all the same, with a smile as soft and gentle as a warm, spring breeze and a kiss upon his brow that had restored in him his desire to live. All that was left was for him to find the necessary strength to fully forgive himself.

While a dwarf may survive cloaked in nothing but the cold of the stone, Thorin knew this was not so for the one he had left under the ancient linens and time-worn pelts piled high on the bed. Taking a look back to see that his darling burglar had not stirred, he made his way to the hearth to stoke the fire which had burned low during the night. As he carefully added pieces of a split table leg to the glowing coals, he could smell his body's rich musk mixed with the earthy notes that were the hobbit's. It lay on him wherever curious hands had explored, where hungry mouths had devoured, and where two bodies had became one. The scent excited him and his greedy, ravenous body responded, wanting more. 

_This is a good pain to have_ , he thought, chuckling softly to himself. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that he, who had spent many long years of his life working and fighting so that his people could live decently, would one day be the recipient of the greatest gift a soul could ever receive. This was something pure and fine, not made of any ore or stone. And far, FAR more precious. Oh, what skill must a burglar possess to not merely steal a heart but to have its owner hand it over without a fight?

"Thorin?" A sleepy voice called out from the dark "Why aren't you in bed?"

Thorin turned toward the voice, the faint light from the fireplace illuminating his burglar's...no...his _lover's_ beautiful face. "What are you doing awake?"

Bilbo made a small snort of amusement. "I asked you first, you impossible thing."

Thorin ignored his hobbit's assessment. _Impossible_ was the least of charges that could be lobbed at him. "Dawn has broken." He answered, returning to the bedside. 

"Mmmm..." Bilbo stretched his body under the bed coverings only to find himself sore in ways that were new to him and not without a wicked sort of pleasure. "Dawn is hardly an excuse."

"No, I don't suppose it is." Thorin looked down at the one he had come to love so dearly, still wondering what on earth he had done to deserve him. He sat upon the edge of the bed and, reaching out, laid his hand upon a soft, round, warm, hairless cheek. _I have found my one_ , he thought, recalling how the heartfelt words and slow, tender kisses they had shared the night before had led to a full and satisfying discovery of fleshy delights. Leaning over, Thorin kissed the subtle bow of his lover's lips.

"Sweetheart, please, get back in bed. You must be chilled through to the bone." Bilbo gently commanded and Thorin obeyed, slipping back under the covers. No sooner had his back touched the mattress than Bilbo was upon him, doing his very utmost to warm his dwarf. It did not take long for him to realize, however, that there was no chill to chase away.

"How is it that the cold doesn't cling to you?" He asked as he left a trail of kisses across the broad expanse of Thorin's furry chest. "You're like a furnace that never ever goes out." 

Thorin's hands slid down the gentle roll and sway of Bilbo's back until they came to rest on a plump, round rump. "It is the fire of Mahal's forge that burns in all the khazad."

Bilbo laid his cheek where he could feel the steady rhythm of Thorin's heart, sleep threatening to pull him back into its embrace. "Well, whoever this Mahal is, - _yawn_!- I shall have to bake him a cake next time he comes 'round." 

Silent laughter came rolling from deep in Thorin's belly, and the gentle rocking pulled Bilbo back from the edge of sleep. He raised his head to find Thorin looking down at him. The firelight from the hearth was dancing in the dwarf's eyes, turning that brilliant blue to gold and joy was writ large on his handsome face.The happiness was contagious and Bilbo couldn't help wearing a smile of his own.

"What? Why are you grinning like a cat who has found the keys to the dairy barn?" He asked. 

"Because, _Ghivashel_ ," Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo's forehead, "at long last I am home."


End file.
